


A Lovingly Woven Tapestry

by foundCarcosa



Category: Kingdoms of Amalur
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fateless mortal ascends to prominence in the House of Ballads and in the song of one Fae in particular.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lovingly Woven Tapestry

"I am Hallam the White," he spoke, and there was ethereality to his voice, as if he were less man and more slant of light through forest canopy, or morning dew on springy moss, or gentle blast of heat from a rock that has been bathed in the sun all afternoon. "I am Seeker of the Stone of Fal. Baron of the Drowned Forest. Slayer of Argoth the Mighty..."

Andraste had listened with brow furrowed and a faint frown to her lips, listened to the litany of names and titles with no understanding of their weight. Hallam introduced himself like so without pompousness or pride, and neither did his expression belie exasperation with having to be so formal. It was natural. It was The Way Things Were.

"Hallam the White", as a name, meant nothing. He was defined not by who he was, but by what he'd done. By his role in the story, his weave in the tapestry, his part in the grand design.

Andraste understands this now, having bedded down in the mossy, verdant hollows of the Summer Court's lands, having watched Green the Healer weave elegent tales for her between his long, deft fingers, having taken up the charge of filling the role of Sagrell and learning what that meant.  
They didn't call her 'mortal' anymore. She is Sagrell, and that is that.

Hallam, the Storyteller, the guardian of the grand design, is the first to call her Andraste.

"You fill the role so well not only because you are skilled, but because you are Fateless." His eyes blink slowly, and he tilts his head ever so slightly to one side. Andraste is often hypnotised by his slow, languid movements in moments of rest, so different from the sterling alertness he displays in the Court. "I shudder to think of how you survived before now."

"What do you mean?"

Hallam raises his hand to his chest. "I am the Chamberlain, and the Storyteller. This has always been, and before me, there was another, and after me will be yet another. But while I am here, this is my role. My place.  
What role did you fill, Andraste? What place is there for Andraste in Amalur's grand design?"

Andraste frowns, and a strange sense of unbearable weightlessness comes over her. "I... I don't know. I think... I was supposed to be dead."

"And yet, you are not. Perhaps there was no one else to fill your role. Perhaps you did not fill it in the way you were supposed to."

"I-- maybe. Can we talk about something else?"

Hallam senses her lack of grounding -- perhaps it is the pallid cast to her features, or the way her hands curl in the gently waving grass under them -- and inclines his head with languid grace.  
"Of course... Sagrell."

\--

She brings him wine, and he tilts his head and inspects the bottle with a childlike curiosity that makes Andraste's lips twitch with amusement.

"It's Varani. Best there is, naturally. There's a warmth to it I think you might appreciate. Summer, and all."

"I will try it, if you will try ours." There is a gleam in Hallam's eyes that gives her pause -- sometimes she remembers that even this gentle, steadfast man is Fae first and foremost, and she is an interloper in their lands. Should they wish to toy with her, they would suffer no rebuke.

"It won't... hurt me. Will it?"

"It has certainly been used for harm by some, but that is not its intention, no. There is a warmth to it that you might appreciate... my dear Andraste."

The sun seems brighter and warmer when they have drunk their fill, and the moss beneath their bodies seems more like clouds, and Andraste sprawls out under the never-ending expanse of sky and laughs. Hallam smiles in his slight way, but behind his eyes is the same laughter that billows out of her in peals.  
Embraced by him, the warmth only seems to increase, and she feels liquid and loose and not at all ashamed.

"Summer shines in you... my dear Andraste."

\--

A faintly sulphurous smell still clings to her when she returns to the House of Ballads, daggers steaming with the heat of Fae blood and limbs aching with the exertion of battle and the trek back to the House. She is weary and faint, and barely registers Hallam's voice. Nor does she fully register him sweeping her into his arms and bringing her to the capable hands of Green, who sings to her as he weaves his magic.

"Sagrell," he whispers with a smile when he is finished, and Andraste's eyes blink open.

He brings her to the Court, where a throng of Fae have gathered, and though they do not all look pleased to see her, they incline their heads with the respect they are fated to show. She looks about in confusion, and her gaze meets Hallam's.

He stands on the dais, hand outstretched, and she ascends to meet him, and gasps when he bows deeply over the hand he holds so gently in his own.

"Wencen has been rendered impotent by the Maid's destruction. You ascend to his place."

Andraste opens her mouth to protest, as is natural to her, but Hallam shakes his head and leans in, as if to impart a secret. "The tapestry is already woven, my dear Andraste. Instead of seeking to unravel it, revel in its beauty and intricacy, instead."

The entire House comes to laud her in time, but she has eyes only for the Storyteller.

"I am Hallam the White," he speaks, and the same ethereality is not only in his voice but in his smile, the smile he's given to her as a token of his affection, the smile that echoes the slant of light through the forest canopy and the warmth of a rock on a summer afternoon. "I am Seeker of the Stone of Fal. Baron of the Drowned Forest. Slayer of Argoth the Mighty. Chamberlain to the House of Ballads. Keeper of the Anthology.  
And beloved of my Queen, Andraste."


End file.
